Abstract
This insight explores the literary scene in Soviet Armenia during the 1920s–1930s from the perspective of “competition”. It also examines the broader implications within Soviet literary policy, particularly how the 1934 All-Union Congress of Soviet Writers became a threshold between comparatively free and state-controlled literary and art processes. This contribution argues that the change in political policies, from “permanent revolution” to “constructing socialism in one country”, also changed the forms of literary competition in the Soviet Union. Writers who lost their agency to choose their aesthetic preferences and were required to adhere strictly to the “socialist realism” style were expected to compete only as representatives of their nations.
Manifesto for Change: ‘Declaration of the Three’
[․․․] «Երեքը» այսօր հրապարակ են գալիս ցույց տալու, որ իրենք իրենց ստեղծագործության նկատմամբ գիտակից վերաբերմունք ունեն և առաջին անգամն է, որ կոչ են անում հայ ժամանակակից բանաստեղծներին հանդես գալ և մրցել իրենց հետ, եթե այդպիսինները կան:
[(…) ‘The Тhree’ are coming out to the public today to show that they are conscious of their work, and for the first time they are calling on contemporary Armenian poets if there are any, to come forward and compete with them.] Full reference in Zotero Library
The quotation above is taken from a review of a poetry evening that was held in Yerevan in the summer of 1922. What struck me about this sentence is the reviewer’s appreciation of the role of competition. The concept of competition was, indeed, a central part of Soviet ideology and extended to all areas of life, including literature. But were the rules and conditions of literary competition always uniform? I argue that this was not the case and that the most significant change in the forms of literary competition was related to the change in Soviet policy, and more specifically, the adoption of the policy of ‘constructing socialism in one country’. To illustrate this, my case study will examine the literary scene in Soviet Armenia in the 1920s, followed by a discussion of the First All-Soviet Writers’ Congress of 1934.
To clarify, the ‘three’ writers mentioned in the extract quoted above refer to Yeghishe Charents (1897–1937), Gevorg Abov (1897–1965), and Azat Vshtuni (1894–1958), three young poets who wrote the first literary manifesto in Soviet Armenia, known as the ‘Declaration of the Three’. The name of the manifesto referred straightforwardly to the number of authors involved. It was published on June 14, 1922 in Khorhrdayin Hayastan [Soviet Armenia], the country’s most important magazine at the time. To provide an impression of the manifesto and support my analysis below, I quote here a longer excerpt from the text:
Ներկա հայ բանաստեղծությունը մի թոքախտավոր է, որ անխուսափելիորեն դատապարտված է մահվան: Նրա գոյության միակ արդարացումը—մահամերձ լինելն է։ նրա տրադիցիաները նման են թոքախտավոր երեխաների, որոնք, բացի վարակումից, ոչինչ չեն առաջացնելու։ «Հայրենիք», «Սեր անբիծ», «Անապատ ու մենություն», «Մթնշաղներ նրբակերտ», «Մոռացում ու երազներ», — ահա մեր գրական թոքախտի մանրեները, որոնց առաջացրած պտուղներն են` նացիոնալիզմ, ռոմանտիզմ, պեսիմիզմ և սիմվոլիզմ: Մենք հանդես ենք գալիս որպես ախտահանողներ: Մենք բերում ենք մեզ հետ մաքուր օդ և երկաթե առողջություն։ Քաղքենի նացիոնալիզմին մենք հակադրում ենք պրոլետարական ինտերնացիոնալիզմը։ «Անբիծ սիրուն» մենք դեմ ենք դնում սեռական առողջ բնազդը։ Մեզ համար «Անապատները» դարձել են բազմաժխոր քաղաքներ։ Իսկ մեր երակների մեջ մենք զզում ենք բազմահազար ամբոխների հույզը։ «Նրբակերտ մթնաշաղներին» այսօր հաջորդել է բոսոր արշալույսը և պայքարող դասակարգի մարտական շեփորը մեզ արթնացրել է «մոռացման երազներից»: Մեր մեջ ստեղծագործում է բազմությունների տեմպը, և մենք դեպի բազմությունն ենք իջեցնում մեր ստեղծագործությունը։Մենք պահանջում ենք.—
1. Դուրս հանել բանաստեղծությունը սենյակներից դեպի փողոցներն ու մասսաները և գրքերից դեպի կենդանի խոսքը։
2. Արտահայտել այն, ինչ որ այժմեական է—շարժում, դասակարգային պայքար, երկաթ ու կարմիր:
Այդ նպատակներին հասնելու համար բանաստեղծության մեջ պետք է կիրառել`
1) Ռիթմը որպես շարժում.
2) Պատկերը (образ) որպես կենցաղի բնորոշում.
3) Ոճը և լեզուն որպես տվյալ նյութի և խառնվածքի արտահայտություն։ Մեր օրվա լոզունգն է. Կորչեն գրական արիստոկրատ շկոլաները, առանձնասենյակային գրողները, գրադարաններում ննջող գրքերը և սալոնային կանայք։ Կեցցե գեղարվեստական կենդանի խոսքը, ստեղծագործող բազմություններում։ Կեցցե ստեղծագործող բազմությունը իր հզոր ռիթմով։ Կեցցե պրոլետարական հեղափոխությունը:
[The current Armenian poetry is infected with tuberculosis and inevitably condemned to death. The only justification for its existence is its agony. Its traditions are like children with tuberculosis, who cause nothing but contagion. “Homeland”, “pure love”, “desert and solitude”, “tender twilights”, and “forgetting and dreams”—these are the germs of our literary tuberculosis, the fruits of which are nationalism, romanticism, pessimism, and symbolism. We act as disinfectants. We bring with us fresh air and iron health. We oppose proletarian internationalism to narrow-minded nationalism. Against the ideal of “pure love”, we set the instinct of a healthy, sexual instinct. For us, the “deserts” have turned into bustling cities. And within our veins, we feel the emotions of the countless crowds. The “delicate twilights” of yesterday have given way to crimson dawn, and the battle trumpet of the struggling class has roused us from the “dreams of oblivion”. The rhythm of the masses now drives our creativity, and we bring our art down to the masses.
We demand։
- To take the poem out of the rooms and into the streets and the masses, and out of the books into live speech.
- To express what is relevant: movement, class struggle, iron, red.
To achieve these goals, the following should be used in the poem:
- Rhythm as a movement.
- Image as the definition of everyday life.
- Style and language as an expression of given a material and temperament. Our slogan of today is: Let perish the literary aristocratic schools, the closet writers, the books sleeping in libraries, and the salon women! Long live the artistic living word in creative masses! Long live the creative crowd with its powerful rhythm! Long live the proletarian revolution!] Full reference in Zotero Library
The competitive, even aggressive tone of the language is clearly displayed. With whom were they competing; or rather, against whom were they fighting? By accentuating the harmful side of the disease, the authors distanced themselves not only from ‘the infected body of contemporary Armenian poetry’ (as they express it), but also from world-renowned ideological and aesthetic movements, namely ‘nationalism, romanticism, pessimism, and symbolism’, which had been instrumental in creating the image of tuberculosis as a ‘romantic disease’. The titles labelled ‘germs of our literary tuberculosis’ point to the main target of their criticism, namely Vahan Terian (1885–1920), even if he is not mentioned by name in the text. The latter was a prominent Armenian poet and social and political actor at the beginning of the twentieth century. His work made a decisive contribution in bringing the Armenian poetic language to a new standard and prominence. Terian’s poetry has conventionally been interpreted as the perfect expression of Romanticism and Symbolism in Armenian poetry․ As one would expect from a symbolist poet of the twentieth century, the romanticisation of tuberculosis was also a theme in his poetry. However, one can also imagine how sensitive the Armenian reading public of the time could have been to the use of this allegory of disease, considering that their beloved poet Vahan Terian had died of tuberculosis just two years before the manifesto was published. Moreover, the comparison of Armenian poetry to sick children ‘who cause nothing but contagion’ sounds much more severe, especially in the context of the post-genocide period, when the country was full of immigrant orphans from the Ottoman Empire who had survived this catastrophe and were still suffering from various diseases.
Nowhere did the authors mention that it is a Futurist declaration. However, the tone, style, and main ideas at the core were very close to Marinetti’s Manifesto of Futurism and the Russian Futurist Manifestos. Like the Italian founder of this artistic movement or Maiakovski, Burliuk, Khlebnikov, and Kruchenykh (authors of the Russian Futurists’ manifesto ‘A Slap in the Face for the Public Face’), the Armenian poets rejected all cultural productions that preceded them and called for a break with earlier art forms. In their place, they advocated “movement”, “the power of youth”, and “speed”. They wanted to find a new style and a new scope for creativity.
Public Reception and Responses to ‘Declaration of the Three’
Immediately after publication, several poetry evenings were organised (called ‘sheporahandesner’; literally translated as ‘trumpet shows’), at which the poets read their works to the public. These events were a kind of futuristic performance in which the poets experimented with the rhythm of words and practised literature as social action. That is, they enacted their slogan ‘bringing the poem from the rooms to the masses’. The reactions to the declaration and the poetry events were not long in coming. There were articles and commentaries of both admiration and praise, as well as more critical perspectives. The positive reviews emphasised the fact that the ‘Declaration of the Three’ had brought much-needed energy to the stagnating literary scene in Armenia. For example, one of the reviews stated:
Երեքի մարտական կոչը պիտի արձագանք գտնի մեր մեջ երիտասարդ սկսնակ գրող ընկերները պիտի անպայման իրենց վրայից թոթափեն հնի փոշին-թողած անապատները, մենությունները, թույլ ինտելիգենտին հատուկ նվաղոցները, պիտի համարձակ իջնեն ամբոխի մեջ, կյանքի ժխորին ձուլվեն ու նոր դարբնվող կյանքը պիտի երգեն, զգալով նրա թե դառնությունները և թե պատճառած ուրախությունները։
[The battle call of the Three should resonate among us; young aspiring writer friends should shake off the dust of the past, leaving the deserts, the loneliness, and the sorrows peculiar to weak intellectuals; they should boldly join the crowd, get into the rhythm of life, and sing a new life, feeling both its bitterness and its joys.]Full reference in Zotero Library
They also underlined that the Three were carrying out the work of separation from the past, which, in their opinion, could not give anything positive and valuable to the revolutionary present and future. Following the logic of the Declaration, the laudatory reviews failed to recognise the value of literary works written before the revolution. One such article equated the well-known and popular Armenian poets—Hovhannes Tumanian (1869–1923), Vahan Terian from the modern era, and the medieval poet Grigor Narekatsi (950–1003/1011)—with ‘monuments of antiquity’ that could offer no utility to a prosperous future:
Անցել են Նարեկացիները իրենց աղոթքների և չարքերի հետ։ Անցել են Թումանյանները իրենց կիսա-ֆեոդալական ու կիսա գյուղացիական միամիտ ապրումների հետ։ Անցնում են նաև Տերյանները, իրենց հետ տանելով ինքնամփոփ, հուսահատ ու հոռետես տրամադրությունները։ Մենք նրանց վրա կնայենք, որպես հնության կոթողների վրա, բայց երբեք թույլ չենք տա, որ նրանք իրենց ընկճված տրամադրություններով ապրեցնեն մեր նոր սերունդը։ (Անհեղինակ)
[Gone are the Narekatsies with their prayers and their evil. Gone are the Tumanians with their half-feudal, half-peasant naive sentiments. The Terians too are passing away, taking with them self-centred, despairing, and pessimistic sentiments. We will look upon them as monuments of antiquity, but we will never allow them to feed our new generation with their depressive moods.] Full reference in Zotero Library
Interestingly, this act of refusal can be seen as another way of creating or affirming the literary canon of Armenian literature.
However, the Declaration also provoked negative reactions. In the same article quoted above, these objections were mentioned in reference to the public discussions and responses during the poetry evening:
Հակաճառողները ողջունելով «3»-ի նոր և մեծ գործի սկիզբը և դրվատելով նրանց ձգտումերը, այնուամենայնիվ գտնում էին, որ հինը բացարձակ անուշադրության մատնել չի կարելի։ (Անհեղինակ)
[The opponents welcomed the beginning of the new and great work of ‘the Three’ and encouraged their aspirations; however, they believed that the old one could not be completely ignored.] Full reference in Zotero Library
In another article written by Tigran Hakhumian, an influential literary critic of his time, the Declaration was interpreted as its authors’ obsession with fame:
Դեկլարացիան թողեց այն տպավորությունը, թե «Երեքը» Հին Հունաստանի քաղաքացի Հերոստրատի նման՝ ուզում են ինչ գնով էլ որ լինի՝ այրել ներկա կուլտուրայի բազմադարյան տաճարը, որ պատմական մի հետք թողնեն իրենց ճամփին, և ես մտքումս արդեն երեքի անվան կողքին գրել էի Հերոստրատի անունը:
[The Declaration left the impression that the “Three”, like Herostratus, a citizen of ancient Greece, wanted to burn down the centuries-old temple of modern culture to leave a historical trace in their wake, and I have already put the name of Herostratus next to the names of these three.] Full reference in Zotero Library
The articles criticising them frequently asserted, first, that there was nothing unique in the ‘Declaration of the Three’, claiming it was merely a repetition of the Moscow Futurists, and second, that a complete rejection of past cultural achievements was dangerous. The combination of both accusations was well represented in a review by the writer Kostan Zarian (1885–1969):
Պրոլետ-բանաստեղծութիւնը, չտես գաւառացու նման, արտասահմանից եկած հին շորերի հակերը կողոպտում է եւ ցնցոտիներով զարդարւում։ Մարինետտին իր սմոկինգը թողել էր Մոսկուայում, Մայակովսկին հագել էր ու վրան բողկ կպցրել։ Յոգնել, նետել։ Սմոկինգը ընկել էր հին շորերի հակերի մէջ, եկել Հայաստան եւ հիմա Աբովեան փողոցում ման է գալիս [․․․] Րաֆֆիի վրայ թքնում են։ Ահարոնեանի վրայ թքնում են։ Տերեանի վրայ թքնում են։
[Like a provincial, proletarian poetry steals old clothes from the piles coming from abroad and adorns itself with rags, Marinetti left his tuxedo in Moscow, Mayakovsky put it on and stuck a radish on it. Then he got fed up and threw it away. The tuxedo fell into the piles of old clothes, ended up in Armenia, and now it’s walking down Abovian Street (…) They spit on Raffi. They spit on Aharonian. They spit on Terian.] Full reference in Zotero Library1Zarian published the novel in an Armenian periodical in Beirut during 1926–1928. It was the author’s reflection on those two years that he lived in Soviet Armenia, before fleeing to Europe in 1924.
For both the authors of the Declaration and its defenders, the pursuit of a new aesthetic was fundamentally not an endpoint. The new aesthetics should, on the one hand, reflect and, on the other hand, advocate a revolutionary ideology and class consciousness. The impetus behind the Declaration was the Marxist ethos, which prioritised the interests of the community over the individual. This is why the writer was expected to depart from their ‘solitude’ and ‘isolation’ and join the crowd, the populace, becoming the conduit for its voice. Drawing upon Marxist principles of community, which upheld egalitarianism and universality, the Three and their adherents repudiated the customs and cultural heritage of the past as impediments to forging a new, fairer community. They regarded these cultural artifacts as encrusted with the ‘dust of the past’ and entangled with capitalist and nationalist agendas, hindering the creation of a more equitable and content society. While their opponents also aspired to create a happier society, there existed a fundamental distinction between the visions of The Three and their critics. The crux of this distinction lay in the stark contradiction between the past and the present. Whereas the authors of the Declaration emphasised the notion of rupture between the past and the present, their opponents sought to discern continuities across time, deeming it almost barbaric to annul the entire cultural legacy that preceded them.
From/Through Free Competition to Hegemony
The vigorous and highly critical debates within the Armenian literary sphere denote a relatively open and competitive environment. The word “relatively” is used here deliberately in order to acknowledge the existence of censorship or self-censorship that constrained discussions on certain topics and ideas, particularly in the aftermath of the Red Terror. Criticism of the ruling elite, particularly prominent figures such as Lenin and Trotsky, and expressions of anarchist sentiments, for example, were considered unthinkable. Although monopolistic tendencies in literature began to surface in the early 1920s, contrary to the notion of free competition, participants in the literary realm continued to defend and advocate for their aesthetic and ideological principles until the early 1930s. Similar to developments elsewhere in the Soviet Union, various literary groups and associations emerged in Armenia. In 1922, the inaugural Union of Armenian Proletarian Writers was established in Yerevan. Both the Union and its associated periodical were named Murch [Hammer], drawing upon communist symbolism. Murch was comprised of aspiring writers and literary critics, and championed the idea of literature being created exclusively by the proletariat and peasantry, with the “working class”, “factory”, “machinery”, and “movement” serving as key literary tropes. These writers and critics rejected the literary legacy of the past, deeming it ‘petty bourgeois’. Notably, the aesthetic and ideological concepts of the Union aligned with those previously discussed in the ‘Declaration of the Three’. After all, Azat Vshtuni, one of the writers from the Three, was a founder of Murch. By that time, the members of the Three had already fractured due to ideological and personal disagreements. The activity of Murch endured much longer than that of the Three, concluding in 1923. Two years later in 1925, under the leadership of Azat Vshtuni, the Proletarian Writers’ Association of Armenia was established, with most former members of Murch joining its ranks.
This association operated based on principles similar to the Association of Proletarian Writers of Russia (Rossiskaia assosiatsiia proletarskikh pisatelei, known as RAPP), established in 1920. In his recent article, literary critic and historian of Soviet literature, Evgeny Dobrenko, argues that the modelling of Soviet multi-national literature started through the active efforts of RAPP. He shows that the transformations of the RAPP into the VAPP (All-Russian Association of Proletarian Writers) in 1925 and later into the VOAPP (All-Union Association of Proletarian Writers’ Associations) in 1928 were due to RAPP’s continued attempts to take control over the entire field of literature of the Soviet Union. These unions were intended as compromises, influenced by the opposition of representatives of some national literatures (mainly Ukraine, Belarus, Armenia, and Tatarstan), who were insisting on the federal union model against the centralised union model proposed by the RAPP Full reference in Zotero Library.
While RAPP sought hegemony in the literary field at the All-Soviet level, the Armenian Association of Proletarian Writers aimed to monopolise its position in the Armenian literary field. However, achieving this hegemony proved challenging, as disagreements arose among the writers even within the association. Writers such as Gurgen Mahari, Mkrtich Armen, and Gegham Saryan left the association and founded another union of proletarian writers called October. Soon, Yeghishe Charents joined them and assumed leadership, resulting in the group being renamed November. From the very beginning of its establishment, heated debates ensued between November and the Proletarian Writers’ Association of Armenia, with both sides attempting to assert that they alone were the creators of “real” proletarian literature.
The primary focus of the November Union’s declaration was to critique the activities of the Proletarian Writers’ Association of Armenia, as can be seen in the following excerpt:
1922 թվին Երևանում հիմնված Պրոլետգրողների խմբակն իր յերեք տարվա գործունեյության ընթացքում չկարողացավ վարել կազմակերպչական մի այնպիսի գիծ, վոր Հայաստանի պրելետգրական ուժերը համախմբվեյին նրա շուրջը։ Իր վարած գրական քաղաքականության անխոհեմ ու անհամբերողական, վոչ-զգուշավոր ընթացքի շնորհիվ նա ջլատեց մեր պրոլետգրական շարքերը և կաստայացավ:
[In 1922, the group of proletarian writers founded in Yerevan during its three years of activity failed to establish an organisational direction that could unite the proletarian forces of Armenia. Due to the imprudent and impatient, careless course of his literary policy, it weakened our proletariat ranks and degenerated into a caste.] Full reference in Zotero Library
The November Union, furthermore, positioned themselves as an alternative union capable of organising literary life in Soviet Armenia more effectively. Importantly, the Novemberists asserted their agreement with the main principles outlined at the first conference of VAPP (in 1925), with two exceptions. These exceptions related to the question of hegemony and the stance towards various literary unions:
Հեգեմոնիայի հարցում միությունս [Նոյեմբեր] կանգնած է մեր կուսակցության բանաձևում արտահայտված և ընդգծված այն տեսակետի վրա, որ պրոլետարական գրողների հեգեմոնիա դեռևս գոյություն չունի, և մենք պետք է այն ձեռք բերենք ոչ թե, ինչպես ՎԱՊՊ-ի բանաձևում է ասվում «արվեստի ասպարեզում իշխանությունը խլելով», այլ մեր գրական արտադրանքներով, ազատ մրցմամբ, այդ հեգեմոնիայի համար պատմական իրավունք նվաճելով»։
[Regarding the issue of hegemony, my union [November -S. M.] aligns with the perspective articulated and underscored in the resolution of our party that the hegemony of proletarian writers is not yet established. We believe it should not be achieved, as stated in the VAPP resolution, through ‘seizing power in the field of art’, but rather through our literary products, free competition, and earning a historical right for that hegemony.] Full reference in Zotero Library
As evident, the notion of hegemony was not dismissed outright; however, the methods for attaining it were rejected. The November group underscored the significance of free competition. The same competitive ethos observed in the ‘Declaration of the Three’ is discernible here, and it is hard not to agree with literary critics who see Yeghishe Charents as the most influential voice in both declarations.
From today’s perspective, considering the facts that Yeghishe Charents and most of the members of the November Union fell victim to Stalin’s repressions, and by and large the ideas of the Association of Proletarian Writers modelled the Soviet multinational literature, it can be assumed that November’s statement was an extremely brave step. It was, to be sure, an important act of resisting the expansion of RAPP through its local representatives in Soviet Armenia. However, one should keep in mind that this took place in 1925, and both sides had equal resources with which to compete. Moreover, November’s declaration even referred to a resolution of the Communist Party and used it as a legitimate tool against their competitors. What was this resolution about? This was a resolution, titled Party Policy on the Literature, which was declared by the Central Committee of the Communist Party on June 18, 1925. Behind this resolution were the growing grievances among writers regarding the arrogant and rude behaviour of VAPP. Thus, the party called on a more moderate and gentler attitude towards non-party writers and pre-revolutionary intelligentsia. It also stated the party’s commitment to maintaining neutrality and not taking the side of any one group:
Распознавая безошибочно общественно-классовое содержанпе литературных течений, партия в целом отнюдь не может связать себя приверженностью к какому-либо направлению в области литературной формы. Руководя литературой в целом, партия также мало может поддерживать какую-либо одну фракцию литературы(классифицируя эти фракции по различию взглядов на формы и стиль) […] партия должна высказываться за свободное соревнование различных группировок и течений в данной области. Всякое решение вопроса было бы казенно-бюрократическим псевдорешением. Точно так же недопустима декретом или партийным постановлением легализованная монополия на литературно-издательское дело какой-либо группы или литературной организации. Поддерживая материально и морально пролетарскую и пролетарско-крестьянскую литературу, помогая «попутчикам» и т. д., партия не может Предоставить монополии какой-либо из групп, даже самой пролетарской по своему идейному содержанию; это значило бы загубить пролетарскую литературу прежде всего.
[Recognising unmistakably the social class content of literary currents, the Party as a whole cannot at all bind itself to any one direction in the field of literary form. In directing literature as a whole, the party as a whole can also hardly support any one faction of literature (categorising these factions according to the difference of views on form and style; this would mean ruining proletarian literature first of all. (…) the party should speak out in favour of free competition between different groupings and currents in this (literary – S.M.) field. Any solution to the question would be a bureaucratic pseudo-solution. Likewise, a legalised monopoly on the literary publishing business of any group or literary organisation by decree or Party resolution is inadmissible. While supporting materially and morally proletarian and proletarian-peasant literature, helping “fellow writers”, etc., the Party cannot grant a monopoly to any group, even the most proletarian in its ideological content; this would mean ruining proletarian literature above all.]Full reference in Zotero Library
The main principles emphasised by the Communist Party in 1925 were: to reject the monopoly in the publishing business, to encourage free competition between literary groups and associations, and to refrain from bureaucratic pseudo-decisions to organise the literary field from above. It appeared to present the ideal conditions for maintaining a vibrant and healthy literary atmosphere. However, not long afterwards, these principles and positions were abandoned by the same party, which adopted the model of total and centralised management of literature and art, inclusive of any sphere of the country’s life. The Central Committee of the All-Union Communist Party (Bolsheviks) officially announced the change of its position in the Decree on the Reconstruction of Literary and Artistic Organisations, approved on April 23, 1932. The content of this decision was diametrically opposite to what was announced in 1925.
The resolution of 1932 decreed to liquidate all literary associations and establish one general Union of Soviet Writers. It makes clear that the integration of the writers into the newly established Union was possible only if they ‘support the platform of the Soviet government and […] aspire to participate in Socialist construction in a single union of Soviet writers with a Communist faction therein’. This decision was the first official signal, which discussed the change of course in mechanisms of organisation and institutionalisation of literature and other forms of arts in the Soviet Union. It strengthened the control of the party over literary and artistic production, depriving the actors of the ability to engage in independent pursuits. Hereafter, any initiative of self-organisation would be considered against socialism and the Communist Party, and, moreover, be labelled as ‘Grupovshchina’ [групповщина], meaning “factionalism” or “groupism”. The Russian Explanatory dictionary, compiled by Dmitry Ushakov during 1934–1940, defines the word ‘grupovshchina’ as ‘the dominance of a separate closed group in some area of public life’ [Засилье отдельной замкнутой группы в какой-нибудь области общественной жизни.]. To situate this word in context, Ushakov introduced the following example: ‘Groupism in literature should be extinguished’ [Ликвидировать групповщину в литературе]. Ushakov’s choice of example was not accidental, as it highlighted the exemplary role played by Soviet literature in setting the precedent for organising and institutionalising other disciplines of artistic production.
Following the Decree, another significant event in the Soviet literary landscape was the first All-Union Congress of Soviet Writers, which had two major outcomes: the establishment of the Union of Soviet Writers, and the adoption of Socialist Realism as the only approach to artistic creation. A closer examination of this Congress is important to understand the logic underpinning changes in the rules of artistic competition.
Soviet Literature and the Narrative of Victory in the All-Union Congress of Soviet Writers (1934)
The first All-Union Congress of Soviet Writers was held in Moscow from August 17 to September 1, 1934, at which 183 speeches were delivered, along with twenty-two reports, and forty-two greetings, printed subsequently across approximately 700 pages. Out of all these speeches, I will concentrate here on the opening speech of Andrei Zhdanov, the representative of the Central Committee of the All-Union Communist Party in the Congress. Why do I choose not to focus on the speech/es of Maxim Gorki, the most powerful and decisive voice not only in this Congress but in Soviet literature? The reason may perhaps come across as quite simple: the title of Zhdanov’s speech is more relevant in the context of my current analysis and strikes, moreover, a controversial chord. His speech was entitled ‘Sovetskaia literature samaia ideinaia, samaia peredovaia literature v mire’ [Soviet Literature—the Richest in Ideas, the Most Advanced Literature in the World]․ Zhdanov’s speech contained almost every important topic that would be discussed in the speeches of various speakers in the subsequent two weeks and would, of course, become the basis of the organising policy of Soviet literature. He talked about the correlation between literature and the political-economic order, announced socialist realism as the only aesthetic method for Soviet literature and art, and declared the Soviet people the sole inheritors of world literature. Zhdanov connected all these points with the idea of “victory”, which became one of the important components of the Soviet discourse years before the Second World War. And what kind of victory did he discuss? It was victory in the civil war, in the economy, and against the capitalist elements. Zhdanov announced the victory of socialism in the Soviet Union, attributing it to the leadership of the Communist Party led by Stalin. This victory was presented as the culmination of a series of successes, from industrialisation to the establishment of collective farms. The narrative of victory was the background against which the achievements of Soviet literature are emphasised. He draws a deep distinction between Soviet literature and literature created in the capitalist world, as shown in this excerpt from that speech:
The present state of bourgeois literature is such that it is no longer able to create great works of art. The decadence and disintegration of bourgeois literature, resulting from the collapse and decay of the capitalist system, represent a characteristic trait, a characteristic peculiarity of the state of bourgeois culture and bourgeois literature at present. Gone never to return are the times when bourgeois literature, reflecting the victory of the bourgeois system over feudalism, was able to create great works of the period when capitalism was flourishing. Everything now is growing stunted—themes, talents, authors, heroes.
And in the light of our Soviet literature’s successes, we see standing out in yet sharper relief the full contrast between our system the system of victorious socialism—and the system of dying, moldering capitalism Full reference in Zotero Library.2I use the English translation of the speech, posted on Marxists Internet Archive Soviet Writers Congress 1934 (marxists.org)(28.02.2024).
Zhdanov described the literature created in the capitalist world as decadent and stunted, following a logic developed earlier in the text that literature and art were merely expressions of the political and economic order. According to Zhdanov, real literature was literature that went hand-in-hand with the victorious political order. And if there was a victory, one should also talk about the heroes. Zhdanov did not hesitate to name the main heroes of literature, those whom writers should describe and glorify in their works. Those heroes were the builders of the new reality: ‘men and women collective farmers, Party members, business managers, engineers, members of the Young Communist League, Pioneers’. Through these heroes, writers should convey hope and optimism to the reader. However, in order not to be carried away by ‘utopian dreams’, but to build the future in a planned and realistic way, ‘engineers of the soul’ should use all their weapons. The speaker explained in parentheses what he meant by the word ‘weapon’: they were the diverse genres, styles, forms, and methods of literary work that ‘were created by all previous epochs’. At first glance, it appears that the pluralism of artistic forms was encouraged in Soviet literature. However, this was so only on the declarative level because both in Zhdanov’s speech and in the following speeches of the congress, Socialist realism was declared the main method of Soviet literature and literary studies. Besides, a careful reading reveals that the speaker safeguarded himself and the Soviet writer against this diversity, advocating for the assimilation of only the ‘best’ from ‘the treasury of world literature’:
Comrades, the proletariat, just as in other provinces of material and spiritual culture, is the sole heir of all that is best in the treasury of world literature. The bourgeoisie has squandered its literary heritage; it is our duty to gather it up carefully, to study it, and, having critically assimilated it, to advance further. Full reference in Zotero Library
In this passage, as in the whole speech, the prevalence of military pathos and logos is evident. Just as victorious armies in war claim the right to appropriate the property of the vanquished, so the Soviet writer, representing the victorious public, is called upon to master the riches of world literature. However, this assertive rhetoric is cloaked in a mask of generosity towards the cultural heritage of the enemy, portrayed as ‘neglected’ and therefore in need of preservation.
It is, indeed, accurate to perceive Zhdanov’s speech, starting with its title, as issuing a challenge to other world literatures. Meanwhile, beneath the surface, it also harboured a rejection of genuine competition and any meaningful engagement of Soviet literature with its contemporaries. Essentially, the pre-announcement of a ‘winner’ implied that the competition had effectively already concluded.
This was consistent with the logic of the policy ‘Constructing Socialism within the Borders of one Country’ put forward by Nikolai Bukharin after the failures of European communist revolutions. Subsequently, supported by Stalin, it became the leading political doctrine of the Soviet Union, in sharp contrast to the idea of ‘permanent revolution’ advocated by Leo Trotsky. In implementing this policy, Stalin initiated a comprehensive programme of nationalisation aimed at consolidating the socialist revolution within Soviet borders, thereby emphasising the distinction between the internal (Soviet territory) and external (primarily Western countries) sphere.
On the one hand, the external was demonised as the antithesis and enemy of the internal; on the other hand, its existence was either denied or questioned, as reflected in Zhdanov’s speech. By demonising the external enemy, socialist identity was positioned as the embodiment of what was considered good. Meanwhile, the portrayal of the same enemy as weak or on the brink of collapse contributed to the illusion that the socialist country represented a totality of existence, reinforcing the idea that it should stand as an embodiment of the whole world.
In this idealised vision of the world, while propagating the idea of constructing a supranational community—an essential distinction aimed at critiquing capitalist nations, notably exemplified by fascist Germany—the reality was characterised by the simultaneous pursuit of constructing or reconstructing various national communities of the Soviet Union. Literature, in this context, was recognised as a pivotal instrument in fostering the development of these national identities.
The Russian American historian Yuri Slezkine, in his analysis of the long history of the Soviet national policy, tried to understand why a Socialist state promoted ethnic particularism, which created and deepened tensions between various nationalities in the Soviet Union, leading eventually to the collapse of the country․ He concluded that the main reason was the inability of the state authorities to construct one common cultural tradition, which would be understandable and acceptable to all inhabitants of the Soviet ‘communal apartment’ Full reference in Zotero Library.
Building upon Slezkine’s metaphor, one can assert that writers, in their ambition to create literature accessible to all Soviet citizens, also struggled to construct a “literary communal apartment”, where every nationality would have equal space to express itself. Despite initiatives like the All-Soviet Union Congress, which aimed to create this shared literary space, the communication problems between the ‘engineers of souls’ representing the various national literatures of the Soviet Union persisted.
Multinational Soviet Literature: Translation as a Tool for Collaboration or for Constructing Hierarchies?
In his speech, Zhdanov addressed all of the key topics that were on the writers’ two-week agenda, except for one, which was translation. While not explicitly mentioned, its significance was acknowledged implicitly through Zhdanov’s emphasis on the appropriation of the world literary treasury, which suggested that translation played a crucial role in this endeavour. Translation acquired importance not only because it was considered a tool to master ‘classical aesthetics’ for the sake of the development of socialist literature, but also because it acquired a semantic significance in the discourse of building cooperation in the multi-national Soviet country.
For example, one of the representatives of the Armenian writers’ delegation in the Congress, the author Yeghishe Charents, mentioned several times above in this case study, emphasised in his speech this multinational dimension of Soviet literature, where translation could play a crucial role for various nationalities in the Soviet Union in understanding and recognising each other:
Самое знаменательное явление в нашем съезде — это, на мой вягляд, доклады о национальных литературах. Это один из самых крупных, положительных результатов нашего съезда. Критическое освоение лучшей части поэтического наследия всех народов, населяющих Союз, всеми советскими поэтами может только способствовать росту и развитию советской поэзии.
[The most significant phenomenon at our congress was, in my opinion, the reports on national literatures. This is one of the largest, most positive results of our congress. The critical development of the best part of the poetic heritage of all the peoples inhabiting the Union by all Soviet poets can only contribute to the growth and development of Soviet poetry.] Full reference in Zotero Library
This was not the same Charents from the ‘Declaration of Three’ who renounced the past and both national and global poetic legacies. Charents’s speech was dominated by the theme of revaluation and the critical appropriation of heritage. This topic manifested not only in the congress speech but also in his works during this period. Charents was already composing poems dedicated to both national and world classical poets. Yet, he operated under the scrutiny of Soviet censors. Just a year earlier in 1933, one of his poetry collections, ‘Book of the Way’, was banned, with the poet accused of endorsing nationalist ideals. In this collection, Yeghishe Charents used national themes, such as the Armenian epic poem or episodes from Armenian classical and medieval history, to present his vision of socialist Armenia. This incident was one of many where a work of art created with the mandate to be ‘national in form, socialist in content’ was labelled as ‘nationalist’. The intricacies of Soviet censorship under the Stalinist regime to distinguish between the national and the nationalist are beyond the scope of this discussion. What deserves more attention here is that the national dimension of literature holds significance for both Charents and the Soviet regime. However, his conception of the nation posed challenges for the regime, which was steadily constructing a new imperial state where all were equal, but some were more equal.
Yeghishe Charents advocated for horizontal relationships among all nations within the Soviet Union. In her recent article, Susanne Frank offers a close reading of the journal Literaturnyi kritik [The Literary Critic] between 1933 and 1936, looking at it as a laboratory and platform for creating the notion of Soviet Literature, and she, too, analyses the position of Charents in line with other Soviet writers in regards to national literatures. Referring to this same speech—published almost identically in the Literturnyi Kritik—and comparing it with articles written by the Belarusian-Jewish literary scholar Iakov Bronshtein’s (1897–1937), who spoke after Charents at the Writers’ Congress, Frank argues:
Just like Bronshtein in his Congress speech, Charents opposes the exoticisation and marginaliation of national literatures, but unlike him, Charents’s objective is a more general acknowledgment of all the national literatures of the Soviet Union. He argues for an awareness of even the smallest national literatures, because their individual significance lies in their unique characteristics. In this respect, Charents’s view seems much closer to present-day UNESCO’s concept of culture—which, actually in its turn goes back to Malraux’s ideas—than to the Soviet concept of national literature of the 1930s. Full reference in Zotero Library
Regarding heritage appropriation, Charents emphasised that ‘however small, any literature possesses its own singular and irreplaceable character’, and thus, they should each be acknowledged and preserved. To achieve this, he advocated for a ‘lively exchange of creative experience’ among writers of different Soviet nations, promoting regular translation of each other’s works. He noted his own translations of Russian and Ukrainian writers, contributing to the ‘expansion of their sphere of influence’, and questioned why counterparts from other nations do not reciprocate. When addressing the challenges of prose translation, his critique is particularly sharp, targeting Russian authors:
У нас стало обычней прозаические произведения национальных писателей преподносить читателю в плохом переводе. Я до сих пор не знаю им одного образка национальной прозы, переведенного первоклассным русским мастером.
[It has become commonplace for us to present the prose works of national writers to the reader in inadequate translation. I am yet to encounter a single instance of national prose translated by a first-rate Russian master.] Full reference in Zotero Library
In his position on translation, Charents argued against a centralised worldview that could promote hierarchical relationships between national literatures.
Having said this, Charents was not alone in his discontent. Georgian writer Mikheil Javakhishvili (1880–1937) also addressed similar concerns. Unlike his Armenian counterpart, Javakhishvili acknowledged the quality of translations of Georgian poetry by highly skilled Russian masters such as Tikhonov and Pasternak. He was, however, not satisfied with the quality of translations of Georgian prose literature into Russian, which were mostly conducted by Georgian translators. He attributed this deficiency to the reluctance of Russian translators to familiarise themselves with Georgian, contrasting them with Europeans who exhibited consistent interest in Georgian language and literature. Javakhishvili further touched upon the idea of fostering closer ties among Soviet peoples through literary translation, which ‘in practice often results in translation from Russian into the languages of other peoples and vice versa’ Full reference in Zotero Library. He criticised literary publishing houses, including Georgian ones, for their passivity in publishing the literature of other Soviet nations compared to their Russian and Armenian counterparts.
However, their critiques remained unaddressed; instead, existing trends were exacerbated, ultimately leading to the demise of critical voices in the subsequent years. Tragically, both authors fell victim to Stalinist repressions.
Instead of a Conclusion
I have aimed to demonstrate that during the era of the active promotion of ‘permanent revolution’ within the Soviet Union, the country exhibited a greater openness to the world. Despite viewing the world as a domain for conquest, it was not demonised. During this period, literary figures enjoyed comparatively greater freedom, fostering communities aligned with their aesthetic preferences, and keeping pace with global literary currents. However, as the policy of ‘socialism in one country’ gained full traction, the divide between the Soviet Union and the rest of the world solidified. The Soviet government endeavoured to construct a comprehensive worldview confined within its borders, preserving and encouraging the national differentiation of communities. This policy profoundly impacted the notion of multinational Soviet literature, which aimed to position itself as a model for global literature. Authors found themselves constrained by the directive of ‘national in form, socialist in content’, wherein the component of “national” could bring diversity in the general socialist context. Thus, a competitive environment among national literary traditions was fostered. However, this competition was inherently hierarchical from its inception and fell short of the ideals of the ‘proletarian brotherhood’ espoused by Soviet propaganda.